


Don't Make A Sound

by Caffiend



Series: Dark Avengers: post apocalypse [1]
Category: Bucky Barnes Fandom, Steve Rogers Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Apocalypse, Dark MCU, Dark!Bucky, Dark!Steve, F/M, MMF sex, Oral Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Rough Sex, Zombie Apocalypse, dubcon, filthy sex talk, forced impregnation, hunting blinds, really gross zombie descriptives, survivors aren't always good people, treehouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22222234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiend/pseuds/Caffiend
Summary: When Marina finds a blessedly safe haven from the horrors of the apocalypse, she discovers she's not the only one.This is my submission for the Ugliest Wombat MCU Challenge on Tumblr. I picked the treehouse instead of one of the beautiful ocean images, which makes me question my sanity. And here's what happened.
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/OFC, Steve Rogers/OFC
Series: Dark Avengers: post apocalypse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661425
Comments: 149
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uglywombat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/gifts).



> Due to an overzealous self-appointed moral arbiter, I have changed all my stories to "Author chooses not to use archive warnings," because I refuse to label my stories - incorrectly - as rape. There are moments of dub-con and I will do my best to tag effectively and issue specific chapter warnings if I feel they might be triggering. To the anonymous "reporters" who continue to harass writers in our community, I hope you become better people and learn to govern your own lives instead of attempting to control everyone else's. 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marina is saved twice by Captain freaking America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, if you read my usual stuff, you're certainly not afraid of dark characters. Nonetheless, Dark!Steve and Dark!Bucky are part of a fandom that's much darker than you may be used to.

The nights were always the worst.

You’d lie on your side, curled up in a ball with your hands over your ears. Sometimes, you’d even gag yourself in case you fell asleep and woke up screaming. There were thousands of terrible sounds, tens of thousands, but never from you. You would never make a sound.

_When the first reports of the dead coming back to life aired, everyone in your office laughed._

_“Are you shitting me?” scoffed Mike, the other attorney up for junior partner, “Is this some Halloween thing? They’re pranking us.”_

_“Halloween is still five months away, Michael.” You were still staring at the huge tv in the boardroom, watching the visibly rattled anchors try to report the unimaginable. “Though in a recent Google survey,” you murmured, “57% of Millennials polled thought that if there was an end to the world, it would be a zombie apocalypse.” You chuckled, shocking everyone else in the room. “So they’re half right.”_

_“This isn’t funny, Marina!” Carlie was the secretary assigned to their office and she spoke sharply, “This isn’t the time for your endless facts and figures, this is- Oh, JESUS WHAT IS THAT?”_

_That was, in fact, the screaming remains of WNBC's Dan the Man on the Street. who'd been trying to report from the pandemonium on Madison Avenue when he was knocked over by a man with blood streaming from his eyes. The man bit into the reporter's neck and tore out a huge chunk- the red of muscle and the white of gristle horrifyingly clear on their HDTV. Carlie turned around and vomited on the floor._

_You stood up on suddenly shaky legs. “I think we should all go home.”_

_Mike was apparently Not Thinking Things Through. “Are you nuts, Marina? We have the Childer case tomorrow and we still have over half the case report to -”_ _The screaming outside was audible, even through the double-thick paned windows in their high rise._

_Helping the sobbing secretary up, you shook your head. “Don’t be a fucking idiot, Mike. This is real. People are dying.”_

_He looked so puzzled, you thought. His scalp gleamed through the carefully combed strands of hair, and it made him appear oddly vulnerable. This was hilarious because Mike was the kind of attorney who would shove you right into the gaping maw of the undead if he could sue the zombie for eating you. He tried to say something else, but you brushed past him, holding on to Carlie’s arm, the other people in the conference room stumbled past him, some crying, some frantically dialing their cell, trying to reach loved ones._

Curled up in the corner of the treehouse, you thought that it was maybe good you didn’t really have anyone to call. Your parents were dead - mom from cancer and dad soon after from a car accident - and you were an only child. You were always shy, except for in court. In the mad dash from the financial district, you’d lost your grip on Carlie, your favorite Louboutins, and your briefcase. The city was on fire by the time you were on your way out, heading to upstate New York.

'Oh, god...'you thought, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly it hurt. There was the screaming. Then, the laughter of men who thought watching fellow human beings eaten alive was the grandest sort of entertainment. The screams were worse than the mindless growls and hisses of the reanimated corpses. And the laughter was worse than the screams. So you rocked yourself slightly, slightly enough to not cause a creak, not the squeak of a loose board. "It's okay," you mouthed soundlessly, "it'll be okay." 

The days were better. The moans of the damned were sparse, you'd noticed the dead things - you still couldn’t bring yourself to call them zombies - seemed less active during the day. More animals came out in the sunshine, walking through the forest to drink and find food. Just like you. Climbing down the nearly invisible rope ladder, you hitched up your backpack over your shoulders. You had to keep your hands free, one clutching your knife. Of all the horrors that had happened in the world, there was one shining blessing. The treehouse. While you still had to creep out to find food, your safe haven, your fortress was always waiting for you.

The true horror of your new life was that the living were far more dangerous than the dead. The dead things weren’t hugely strong or fast, if you were alert you could outrun them or as a last resort, put them out of their misery. But finding an invisible, nearly impenetrable place to hide saved you from the real monsters. 

Packs of men, sometimes a few women either as vicious as their male counterparts or so brutally beaten down that they were barely standing, were the true threat. It was ironic that the shyness that kept you from seeking out help or trying to find a group was the thing that saved you. Because it didn’t seem like any of the good people were left in this world. The men who lived now hunted other humans for sport. They’d set them against a dozen deaders, laughed as they screamed for mercy. They killed for the pitiful belongings of others, for the weak who could be raped and put into slavery. You would rather be dead. You’d rather be a dead thing than caught by any of them. There’d been a few close calls, but -

You stopped suddenly, barely breathing as you listened. It was to the left of you, a twig snapped, then a heavy boot stepping on another and you were off like a shot. Jumping over logs and skirting branches, you raced parallel to the direction you’d take to the treehouse. You couldn’t lead them there, whoever this was, they were too close and you’d never get in unseen. You had to lose them first.

“Over here! She’s over here!”

‘Keeprunningkeeprunningkeeprunning...’ was all you could think, moving faster and gripping your knife. You were good with it, you could take out one, maybe two and if that’s all there were, you could-

And then you were upside down, swinging back and forth and thrashing, terrified. 

“Well, look at you, all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.” You watched boots clomping up and tilting your head, you could just see his filthy, grinning face. He leaned down, putting his hands on his knees. “And I’m gonna carve you up like one, honey.” Swinging out viciously, you managed to slice down his face and through his carotid artery, a moan breaking through your clenched teeth as his blood sprayed over your face.

“You bitch!” Now several pairs of legs came into view, and the first one kicked you in the stomach, a red hot sear of pain. “She killed Ed! Ima gonna kill you now, bitch!” There was more kicking, the second one knocked your knife out of your hand and you covered your head with your arms, trying to block some of the beating. You were actually grateful when a well-placed boot connected with your skull, knocking you unconscious. Your last thought was, ‘I hope this kills me. I’d rather be dead.’

When you regained consciousness, you were in your bed in the treehouse. You could feel the silent flow of heat over the blanket and relaxed for a moment. A dream. It was just a dream. But then the combined agony from the blows all over your body slammed into you and you whimpered. Not a big one. Your sore throat could barely manage the faintest sound, but it was apparently enough.

“Hey, you’re awake.” A warm hand went gently to your forehead. “No fever, that’s good. Do you remember me?” 

Your right eye was swollen shut, but managing to get your left one open enough, you found… “Steve?” ‘I’m hallucinating,’ you thought hazily, ‘I’m lying on the forest floor and they’re going to kill me and that’s why I’m hallucinating Captain America.’

But it certainly seemed like he was real. Steve Rogers smiled, his blue eyes looking kind. “Hey, doll. It’s good to see you. Really good.”

There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to thank him for saving you. Saving you twice, really. You wanted to tell Captain America that you’d thought of him every day since finding the treehouse again. Instead, you burst into tears. 

His handsome face creased in concern. “Oh, doll- don’t cry! It’s okay, you’re safe-”

“No,” you managed, “th- thank you for saving me. Again.” Giving a watery chuckle, you wiped your sore face. 

“Here, let me help you sit up,” Steve was exquisitely gentle as he set you back against the propped pillow. “What do you mean, again?”

Staring at him, you held back a sigh. Steve Rogers looked good. Really good. He was wearing some kind of dark, tactical-looking suit that fit his powerful body quite well. You could see a star, black on the black of his suit. His blond hair was longer, swept back and the lower half of his face hidden behind a well-kept beard. Except for those lips. Those perfect, red lips. Finally aware that you were staring, you looked down, embarrassed. “Well, you saved me that day at camp, five years ago. You probably don’t even remember, but-”

“No, I remember,” he interrupted, “you were so pretty, and you were standing right under this tree. The sun was shining on your hair, and…” Now he was blushing, “Anyway, I do.”

“Well, I never would have made it out there if you hadn’t shown me the treehouse, and how to get up into it,” you said, feeling tears prickling at your sore eyelids. “I made it out of the city, but it was so bad everywhere. Then I remembered Stark’s camp and this…” your hand swept out. “The remote was right where it was when you showed me five years ago. So, you saved me then, and now. How did you find me? What happened?”

Steve’s mouth tightened, sending those high cheekbones into sharper profile. “I found those … men,” he spat, “beating you. They were tearing off your clothes, and... Well. Anyway, we got you away from them. You had the remote in your jacket so I knew you’d been back to Stark’s treehouse.”

Your brow creased. “We?”

He looked over one broad shoulder. “Hey, Bucky. Come over here and meet Marina.”

You recognized the giant who slowly moved to stand behind Steve. The Winter Soldier, the news called him. But he was Steve’s friend and another man from the past. You smiled uncertainly, he wasn’t really looking at you, his eyes darting around the room. “Hi. Um, thank you for saving me, too.” His long brown hair was in his eyes, a stormy grey-blue. But he was just as beautiful as his counterpart, just as thick with muscle, just as perfectly chiseled.

“Hi,” he mumbled. “It’s good to see you awake.” But when he finally met your gaze, his was assessing, speculative. Bucky Barnes was no shy thing, his gaze covered every inch of you, and when he took your hand, it was a grip much firmer than a handshake should be, almost painful. “The punk here couldn’t believe it when he recognized you. We didn’t think there were any beautiful women left in the world, did we, Stevie? At least, live ones.” he chuckled. 

__________

You found the treehouse, and Steve had found you, thanks to Tony Stark.

The Stark Foundation ran a charity camp that took underprivileged children out of the city and into the mountains for a week every summer. You volunteered at the Boys and Girls Club in South Bronx, and they asked you to be one of the camp counselors. You’d had more time then, just out of law school and about to begin work at Bergen & Styles Law. So why not? Why not use your last days of freedom before learning how to rape and pillage the business world?

You found the treehouse one afternoon when you were out exploring on your own. The kids were creating monstrosities from glue and popsicle sticks with the harried arts and crafts counselor and you took the respite to get out into the woods. You wouldn’t have even seen the structure, hidden high up in a massive white pine if that thing hadn’t hit you on the top of your head.

“Ow! Jesus, what the hell?” Looking up and rubbing your head, you spotted a pissy-looking squirrel, chattering angrily. You noticed a little spray of acorns at your feet. “You were keeping those in your mouth, weren’t you?” you sighed. “Yeah. My hair’s coated with squirrel spit, isn’t it?” The rodent answered back with a furious chatter that sounded very much like it was using every nasty word known in the squirrel kingdom. But while you were watching the squirrel curse you and all your ancestors, you spotted the odd structure, so high up you could barely make out the shape. Six sides, a greenish wood slatting. “Now, what is that?” 

“It’s Stark’s hunting blind.”

With a breathy little shriek that instantly embarrassed you, you whirled around to see Captain America himself standing there. Arms crossed over his massive chest and a gentle smile on his face, he was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt and looked … so. Fucking. Amazing. He chuckled lightly. “I’m sorry miss, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Laughing ruefully, you nodded. “It’s okay, I should be more alert in the middle of the woods, anyway. I’m glad you weren’t a panther. Do they even have panthers in the northeast?”

“The closest panther is in Florida, I believe. A city slicker, huh? Me, too.” He thrust out one giant paw. “Steve Rogers.”

Watching your hand get swallowed up in his, you answered, “Marina Taylor. I thought hunting blinds were just platforms, or like a little treehouse?” Looking up again, you shook your head. “But this is Stark we’re talking about.”

“Exactly,” Steve agreed, “it’s built as state of the art concealment meant to get the best view of wildlife. It has solar-powered heat and air, running water, even a bathroom.”

“No way?” You glanced over at him and blushed. He was staring down at you, not up at the structure. “Does Tony Stark even hunt?” Steve laughed, and he looked amazing while doing it. Strong jaw in profile and those sky-blue eyes of his sparkling. ‘Please let me not be drooling right now,’ you thought.

“He doesn’t,” Steve agreed, “but he keeps it here for important clients who enjoy hunting.”

You blanched white, “Not this week, I hope?”

“No! Not during the kid’s time,” the ridiculously handsome blond stepped closer. “Are you with the camp?”

“I’m just volunteering as a counselor,” you said, looking up at the treehouse again, “I had a free minute and I just wanted to explore a little, you know? Get some quiet time?”

Steve looked chagrined, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh, you’re not!” you assured him. _‘Dial it back, you idiot!’_ you scolded yourself. “So, how did you end up here with 250 screaming kids from the Bronx? Don't you have superhero stuff to do?”

Leaning casually against the giant trunk of the tree, he looked like an ad from a men’s magazine. “I come out every summer to meet the kids and spend a little time talking about goals.”

Your heart melted. “That’s wonderful! I know you must be so busy but these kids- wow, you can’t imagine what this will do for them! Most of them don’t have anyone pay attention to them. So for a hero like you to show up? Thank you.”

Steve Rogers blushed. The First Avenger actually blushed. “Oh, I’m no one special. I used to be one of these kids, I’m from the poor part of Brooklyn, remember?”

“Well, it’s wonderful you still remember,” you said warmly. “It’s something most people who get out of those circumstances prefer to forget.”

His beautiful face hardened, looking more like a sculpture than a man. “I never forget anything.”

He’d walked you back like a gentleman and you'd watched with amusement as he struggled through the opening lines of asking you out, only to be cut off by a Stark assistant who tried to drag him off to the stage. Looking back, Steve called, “Can I see you after this?” You nodded back, a little thrilled that _Captain freaking America_ wanted to ask you out on a date. But he never did, he was called away on an urgent matter halfway through his time with the giddy campers and you never saw him again. 

But you thought of him every day out here in the wilderness with gratitude. If he hadn’t explained what the hunting blind was and how to get into it, you would have been dead long ago. You were certain of it.

________

_We didn’t think there were any beautiful women left in the world, did we, Stevie? At least, live ones.” Bucky chuckled._

Steve looked uncomfortable for a moment and changed the subject. “Marina, you must be in a lot of pain. Let me at least get you to drink some water and you can take a couple of pills, okay?”

Every ache and pain suddenly returned with a vengeance. “Thanks, that would be great.” While Steve got up to get the promised items, Bucky stayed where he was, still looking you over intently. “Um … so how did you two end up here?” you asked, trying to lean back and grimacing. 

Bucky leaned forward, slipping one arm under your knees - the metal one, you noticed - and the other around your shoulders. He lifted you effortlessly and moved you higher against the pillow. “Don’t try to move yourself, doll, you’re not ready.” His face was very close to yours now, and the warmth radiating off his massive body put the treehouse’s heating system to shame.

"Here's the water." Looking up at Steve in gratitude, you obediently swallowed the pills. There was so much you wanted to ask - you hadn't spoken with another person in months. But you were so tired... 

"Will you please - could you stay here?" your eyes were barely open, but you watched Steve smile at you, Bucky still watching you over his friend's shoulder. "You'll be here when I wake up?"

You felt a warm hand on your cheek, and Steve's soothing voice. "Of course doll. We'll be here. We'll keep you safe."

It could have been several hours later, you weren't sure but it had been daytime when you fell asleep after the pills and now it was pitch black. There was no light in the treehouse and you could dimly see the bulky shapes of two supersoldiers standing in the doorway. The hellish aria of the night was back - you could hear the grunts and moans of the dead things and much farther in the distance, the faint sound of screaming carried over the breeze. Sounds were magnified this high up, the wind carried everything to you. Curling up and trying to make yourself smaller, you tried to block it all out. "You're safe, you're not alone,' your lips shaped the words silently. You never made a sound at night. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I got tired so all the smut is in the second chapter. I'll have it up Monday or Tuesday. *cheesy grin emoji*


	2. Call Me Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Bucky are... Helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I got started on Chapter Two and didn't get in half of what I wanted, so there's a chapter three on the way for what is supposed to be a oneshot. Sorry. Thank you as always for reading.
> 
> Warnings: semi-dubcon. This is a Dark!Steve story - though not truly horrifying. But this isn't my usual kind of writing, so I wanted you to be aware of it beforehand. Also warnings for really grisly zombies.

(Image credit: [MCUfam](https://mcufam.tumblr.com/))

The next morning, you woke to the smell of food - hot food, which was something you hadn't eaten in longer than you could remember. You were always worried that the smell would carry and lure in the bad people. 'I'm pretty sure I'm the safest woman in North America,' you thought wryly, 'not one, but two Avengers for roommates.' At least ... you hoped they would be staying. Would they ask you to go with them if they left? Was it worth the risk?

"You're awake!" Steve's cheerful face came into view. "Here, let me help you up. You probably need to go to the, uh ... the facilities." 

You heard Bucky laugh. "Smooth, Rogers. When did you get so delicate?" He moved past the tall blond- which wasn't easy because let's face it, you thought, while this was the most high-tech treehouse on the planet, it was still a treehouse and now there were two gigantic men crowding into it, too. He leaned down and unceremoniously scooped you up. grinning rakishly as you gave a startled little yip. “Here.” He plopped you down next to the partition that made up the bathroom. “I’ll even sing something so we don’t hear anything.” When you gave him a horrified look, Bucky laughed again. 

A pirate ... you mused, the man looked like a pirate. A hot pirate. That beard and those white teeth. That grin… Shaking yourself irritably, you hurried to finish, praying that Bucky really was singing. Looking up at the mirror, you groaned. God, you were a mess. Your eye was still swollen but you could at least see from it now. But there were bruises everywhere, a cut lip, definitely two black eyes and the rest of you was decorated in hues of purple, yellow and black. When you gingerly tried to pull off your shirt, something scraped against something else in your ribcage and you swallowed a scream. You’d also been bandaged there, neat strips wound around you to hold your splintered ribs. Which meant they’d taken off your shirt. “Oh, god,” you groaned softly. 

Trying to brush your hair back into some kind of order and putting on a clean shirt, you took a deep breath and came out. Both men were lounging around the tiny table, still in their tach gear and looking gorgeous. “Here, Marina, sit down,” Steve hastened to pull out the chair and seated you. There was a plate of something hot and tasty in front of you, some kind of meat? For a just moment, you could pretend the world wasn’t insane. The sunlight streamed through the high windows, the light wood interior and the few pieces of comfortable furniture made this feel like it could be, maybe, a nice little vacation place in a world wasn't in ruins. You'd been nurturing plants and seedlings, hoping you could coax them through the winter and they sat in their pots, a hopeful color of growth, new life. 

“I haven’t eaten anything hot in ages,” you confessed, closing your eyes in bliss.

“Why?” asked Bucky, “There’s a stove here.”

“I was worried the smell would carry,” you said thickly, unwilling to stop chewing because whatever this was tasted amazing. “I’m always very quiet, too. The wind this high transmits sound so well to here, I’m sure the same is true for sound heading to the ground. It’s, um. It’s weird to be talking to people.” 

“Well, you have us now, Marina,” Steve smiled, and damn he was beautiful. 

“Tell me where you’ve been,” you pleaded, “what happened? Where did this disease come from?”

The supersoldiers looked at each other, expressions cold. “Tony Stark. The billionaire _genius_ ," Steve emphasized bitterly, "was playing around with recombinant DNA. It went airborne after a mistake in the lab and turned half of Stark Towers into the deaders within the hour. We were on a mission in Peru, and communications went out. We didn’t even know until we tried to land."

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his jaw tight. “Good ol’ Tony was safe in his panic room, watching the city fall on all his little cameras. But it was when we finally cleared the tower- that took over a week and we lost-” he swallowed, “we lost Barton and Sam. We still don’t know where Natasha and Banner are. When we finally peeled him out of his tin can and he realized it was the end of the goddamn world, the chickenshit bastard killed himself.”

You slumped back in your chair. “For one second, I was praying you said he got to work on a vaccine. A cure. With all his equipment and his research? And he _killed_ himself? He was the only one-" choking on a sob, you took a deep breath. 

They took turns telling you about their travels, searching for the missing members of their team, trying to restore order where they could. “We remembered Stark’s retreat up here and thought it would be a good place to wait out the winter,” Steve added. 

“Only to find out it’s been taken over by a group of psycho hillbillies,” Bucky snarled. “Steve thought the treehouse would be a good base to take them out.”

Your head was down, fork idly scraping on the empty plate. "I don’t think even you can do that, they-” you shuddered. “There’s so many of them. They capture people, buy and sell them. They like to have…” you swallowed, breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. “They have tournaments, they call them. They put people into pits with a bunch of the dead things, they-”

A warm hand covered yours and you looked up to see the clear blue eyes of Captain America. "We won't let them hurt anyone else."

You smiled back at him, feeling a little giddy. From the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over that huge chest and watching you. He was expressionless, and you suddenly really wanted to know what the hell he was thinking.

The supersoldiers came and went over the next few days, one staying with you at all times. "We need to make sure you're safe while you're healing, doll." Steve was strapping on some extra weapons as he reassured you. There was a huge duffle bag that took up a good quarter of the floor space crammed with every kind of gun and knife, thousands of rounds of ammunition and explosives. You'd tripped over it twice and you'd been certain you would end up in pieces decorating the interior of the treehouse. Bucky was sharpening yet another of his endless supply of blades, but you found the little ratcheting sound as the steel met the stone oddly soothing.

"I can help," you argued, "I know their patterns, that's how I've managed to keep out of their way this long."

"And you will," he reassured you, "but right now, your job is to heal."

You clicked your heels together and gave him a joking salute. "Yes, Captain!" The sound of Bucky's knife faltered before he took up the rhythm again and you swore Steve's eyes almost turned black. His expression didn't change exactly, but his stillness gave his perfect face a sharper, cruel edge.

“Very well, cadet,” he answered crisply, “you have your orders.”

After he left, there were a few minutes of awkward silence between you and Bucky. He was scanning the area with the excellent binoculars you'd found in the treehouse. "I haven't seen anything this high-tech since-" he paused for a moment. 

You waited. You knew he meant Hydra, you'd been fascinated by the release of all the top-secret information online by the clearly fearless Natasha Romanoff, you'd read everything you could find. You knew the terrible information there about Hydra's sick experiments was only a fraction of what the best friend of Steven Rogers had endured. But you weren’t going to talk about it if he didn't want to. 

Bucky made a low noise of satisfaction and lowered the binoculars. “Be right back, doll. Stay put.” Before you could protest, he was out of the structure and down the ladder. You paced back and forth, rubbing your upper arms. When did you turn into such a ninny? You'd gotten along fine on your own for around four months at the end of the world and now that these two were here, you were freaking out that they left you here alone. You nearly screamed when Bucky’s head popped up thirty minutes later, covered in blood. 

“Oh, my god!” you whispered frantically, “Wh- what happened to you? Are you hurt?”

He looked at you oddly. “You whisper a lot.” His massive arm lifted and you spotted most of a deer gripped in his metal fist. “It was a sloppy butcher,” he shrugged, pulling off his shirt. The carcass landed on the floor with a grisly-sounding thump, and you chose to stare at it instead of a shirtless Bucky.

You flushed, "You talk too loud. You're going to attract the bad men."

He chuckled, it wasn't hugely loud but he was not making any effort to be quiet. "You don't think we can protect you?" He tilted his head to look at you, long brown strands of hair coming loose from his man bun. "Why are you looking down? You have to have seen a naked guy before, doll."

Foolishly lifting your eyes halfway through his sentence, you yelped to find his pants were dropped on the floor and Bucky was casually washing the blood off his skin over the sink, leaving reddish puddles on the floor. "Not, um..." you cleared your throat, "not recently." You tried to busy yourself separating the cuts of meat, trying to get them into containers while you heard him dry his skin. 

"No time like the present." Suddenly, his guttural voice was right behind you and his heat radiated over your back like a sunburn. You watched his hands grip the counter, one on each side of you, blocking you in. "I can hear your heart beating. It sounds like it's ready to burst out of your chest."

"Barnes! Go put some pants on!" You sagged in relief, Steve's irritated voice made his friend withdraw from you, still chuckling easily. "You're not in the Army anymore, punk. You can't strip down whenever you feel like it."

You tried to focus on the deer meat while you heard Bucky get dressed. "Relax. I got all bloody from skinning a deer. I had to move fast because the biters were moving in."

Steve leaned a hip on the counter, giving you an apologetic smile. "Sorry. You'd think he was raised in a barn. I know his mama would smack him upside his head for this kind of behavior."

Shrugging, you smiled up at him, "It's okay, this is a really small space. And you two are freaking gigantic."

Putting a hand up to his chest as if you'd wounded him deeply, he opened his azure eyes wide. "You calling me fat, doll?"

You burst into laughter, you couldn't help it.

But that night, you woke from a restless sleep hearing the two of them speaking in low tones, standing at the open door again as if ... they were waiting for something? "What the hell was that today?" Steve's voice was cold. You'd never heard him address his friend in that way.

"Relax, Rogers," Bucky gave an elaborate shrug. "I was just messing with her. That girl blushes so easy."

"You knew the deal," Steve hissed, "I'm first. And you can..."

You fell asleep again, certain that you couldn't have heard that right.

The next morning, the giant blond looked up from his plate of deer meat. “Thanks ‘Rina. This tastes amazing.”

Smiling, you shrugged, “I just avoided burning it.”

Finishing, he pushed back his chair a little. “I’m going scouting today. Do you want to come with me? You can show me some of those dangerous spots you’ve mapped out.”

“Yes, that would be great!” you answered him a little too quickly, and you heard a stifled chuckle from Bucky, once again sharpening a knife. You chose to ignore it, putting on thick socks and your boots, wrapping an extra layer of ace bandage around your healing ribs. When you looked for your knife, it was in the giant hand of Bucky.

“Here doll, I sharpened it for you.” He held it up to you, one corner of his mouth turned up.

You took it from him carefully. “Thank you, Bucky. That was really nice of you.” He shrugged those massive shoulders and wandered off, leaving Steve to help you down from the lofty perch. Moving silently and carefully though the woods, you took the first deep, proper breath in a week. “It’s good to be moving again,” you confessed.

“We’re taking it easy today,” he admonished, “I want to get you back into fighting shape before you do anything strenuous.”

You showed him several of the areas you avoided, from either a thicket of the undead or clusters of the ugly men with loud voices and cruel laughter. Steve mapped each one on his electrical device, which you found amazing. You’d seen him charge with it a solar-powered setup, all very neat and efficient. He was watching you carefully, and when you’d covered several miles, he insisted that you sit down and eat. 

“Thanks,” you bit gratefully into a granola bar. “I love these things, I never thought I’d eat one again.”

“What have you been foraging for out here?” 

Shrugging, you said, “Lots of plant life, smaller things I could trap like squirrels, a snake or two.”

“Snakes?” Steve recoiled and you started laughing softly.

“Please don’t tell me there’s something that Captain America is afraid of,” you teased.

“No,” he shook his head, smooth cheeks a little flushed, “they’re just … ugh.” Looking over to see you smothering your giggles, Steve grinned and your heart melted. Perfect white teeth, such a nice smile… “You know, I really did want to ask you out on a date that day at the camp.”

“Really?” You were still flattered, all these years later.

“Really,” he said, leaning in a little. “I even went to the Boys and Girls Club in the Bronx, looking for you when I got back from my mission. They said you weren’t volunteering there any more.”

“Wow,” now you were shocked, “I didn’t know. Yeah, I was starting my first big job as an attorney, so it was a new address, law firm issued phone and no free time. Ever.”

Shaking his head, Steve packed up the rest of the food. “Funny how life has a way of making things happen, even if it’s five years later.”

It was your fault, really. You were still a couple of miles from the treehouse and the sun was getting lower, starting to slant over the tops of the pines. You were tired, and the ground was muddy. So when your ankle twisted awkwardly, you slipped over the soft edge of a ridge and started sliding. ‘Oh god,’ you thought wildly, ‘I finally meet up with the two most powerful men on the planet and _now_ I’m going to die? Godda-’

“AHHH!” You knocked into a tree limb and it halted you. You sucked in your breath in terror. You could hear the echo of your pained yelp and the stirring of something in the brush.

"Marina!" You nearly wept in relief as a blond head looked down at you. "Don't move, I'm coming down!" He was quick and ridiculously strong, but you knew Steve would have to traverse the hillside to get to you. You tried to stand up, gritting your teeth as your ankle throbbed and pulled your knife out. The first one was almost on you before you spotted him, but you smelled him.

There was a specific stink about the dead things. 

Spoiled meat, left out in the hot sun with flies crawling over it. Decay and rot, like disturbed earth moist with disintegrating vegetation and wiggling with larva. You held back a gag and got around the man, half his face gone and an eyeball out of the socket but still attached to the skull, waving back and forth like some grisly metronome. You stabbed it in the other eye, watching it go down and nearly getting knocked over by the next. You hacked at its face wildly, hearing the shuffle of more feet and beginning to moan in your throat. Steve wasn’t going to make it in time and the thing’s mouth opened and to your horror, several maggots fell out as you stifled a scream.

And then it was gone, lifted off of you with shocking speed and by the time you managed to sit up, six of the biters were torn in pieces around you. Strong hands grabbed your arms. “Did it bite you?” His beautiful face was grim, eyes wide.

“N- no,” you gasped, “it just … no.”

Lifting you as easily as a child, Steve looked around. “Come on. It’s already dark and we can't make it back. But my GPS spotted a cave or something over that hill.”

There was, indeed, a cave and within minutes, he’d started a small fire, laid out a ground cloth from his pack and set water to next to you. You’d been shaking violently, teeth clenched. “Here.” Pulling out a blanket, he held it up. “You need to get out of those clothes, you’re covered in mud and … stuff.” 

Realizing what he meant, you began yanking your clothes off, trying not to screech “Get it off me get it off meeee!” like a lunatic.

Steve wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and ran his hands knowledgeably over your skin, looking for new wounds. 

“Do you feel any new cuts or broken bones?” His long fingers were already under the blanket, but you were too sore to make a fuss.

“No, I think my head broke the fall.” You were trying to joke a little but the stifled groan at the end spoiled the effect.

Pulling a bottle out of the first aid kit, he shook two pills out and handed them to you, along with a canteen. “Here, honey. You have to take these. A pain pill and an antibiotic. We can’t risk you getting infected.” 

“You should save them for a real emergency, Steve,” you tried to object, “what if you or Bucky really got hurt?”

Picking up a cloth and dipping it in the water, he smirked up at you a little. “Supersoldier constitution, doll. We can’t get sick and we heal pretty quick.” Reluctantly swallowing the pills, you smiled at his gentle touch on your face as he wiped away the dirt and blood. “Lie back, ‘Rina. Let me take care of you.”

Something twinged painfully in the center of you. When had you ever heard those words before? In law school and at your avaricious firm in Manhatten, no one was taking care of anyone unless it involved a knife in the back. But you obeyed with a sigh, resting against his coat that he’d wadded up as a pillow. The warmth of the fire and the medication was lulling you into a half-doze, even though you knew it was insane to sleep when you were outside your safe space, on the ground and at night. You could feel his calloused fingers cleaning your arms and hands, then moving to your feet. It felt so nice … hard, capable hands stroking your legs. A hot flush of arousal went up your spine when his thumb swiped over your inner thigh. 

“You’re safe,” he crooned, “I’ve got you.” You felt the heat of his palms as they slid up your legs, and it felt wonderful against your chilled skin. But you were still shaking and after a moment, those nice, heated hands moved again and you gave just the slightest whine. “Just a minute, ‘Rina,” his voice was so clear and confident, just the way Captain America sounded on TV every time he reluctantly attended a press conference about some new and heroic Avengers mission. “I’ll get you warm honey. Hang on.” It was like he folded the world’s best heating blanket over you - gloriously toasty and covering you completely. It wasn’t until his mouth started moving against yours that you realized it was him. And he was naked.

“Steve, I…” you’re tired, and sore, and he felt so good. Comforting. Letting out a little sigh, you put your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

A low purring noise came from him and it made you spread your legs without thinking and his narrow hips instantly slotted between them. “Just the way I thought you’d be,” he murmured between kisses, those plush lips moving over your cheekbones and down your neck. “Soft and sweet.” One giant hand reached up to cup your breast and you gasped, feeling the strength in it, how carefully his fingers curled around you to avoid hurting the delicate flesh. All his bulk and height caged you, enclosed you in a heated wall of flesh and you moaned again. The tickle and rasp of his beard moved down to nuzzle between your breasts and then sucked on one pink nipple and then the other.

“Oh … god,” you moaned. It had been so long since anyone had touched you. Even back in the city, you didn’t have much time for boyfriends and no one ever like him. “Steve, you’re so-”

He interrupted, “Call me Captain.”

_Steve’s POV_

It felt like he’d spent more time as Scrawny, Underfed Steve in his life than as Captain America. The short kid women looked past in their search for someone strong and desirable. He tried to repay good fortune for plunging in and trying to save the world, over and over and what did that get him? A member of his own team destroyed everything. _Everything_. But he still had Bucky and now, this gorgeous girl. He’d liked her from the start, funny and smart, but well-bred. She didn’t hit on him or whisper slutty things in his ear, trying to get starfucked by Captain America. Granted, he thought with an inward grin, he still fucked those girls, too. But Marina was special. And he was owed her for everything he’d given.

There was something so painfully arousing about having her under him, completely enclosed by his bulk, soft where he was hard. Her thighs were shaking a little around his hips but he could feel that pretty part of her getting wet and warm. Sliding a finger inside her, he relished her startled gasp. “Gotta get you all stretched out for my cock, don’t we?” Steve murmured into her ear, “Such a tight little cunt. Your Captain doesn’t want to hurt you.” He added another finger, loving the slick exploration inside this girl, pressing his fingers here, and then there, finding all the little spots that lit her up and made her moan. Grinning at Marina’s heavy-lidded eyes, he put one hand over her mouth and slid down her body, enjoying the sight of his thick fingers and the swelling pink of her lips. When he bent down and rubbed his bearded chin against her opening, her stomach muscles convulsed and she almost shot upright. It was so easy to hold her down, move this sweet girl the way he wanted her. Then his lips latched on to her clit and he muffled a scream under his palm. 

“Shh … baby. You don’t want to stir anything up outside. This is just for you and me, right?” He was stifling a chuckle as her green eyes opened wide. He loved her eyes, he’d remembered the color exactly. The same shade as the pine trees they’d walked through. They were so wide and innocent right now. “You watching me get you off?” He suckled a little harder and wiggled his fingers, feeling the walls inside her tighten desperately. Her hands flailed and came down, trying weakly to push his head away from her thighs. “Uh, uh, don’t be a bad girl. Come for me and I’ll stop.”

Ignoring her whispers of “Please, I can’t- don’t, it’s too much!” Steve really dove in, moving his fingers in and out faster, enjoying the sweet rush of slick as he rubbed and sucked and when he finally lightly bit down, his girl came with a scream he almost couldn’t silence.

He loved this. Loved how she felt, shaking and limp against him. Because of him. Easily manhandling her into a more comfortable position so her back and neck were supported, he took her hand and placed it on his cock. Her sharp intake of breath only made him harder. He loved that part - the shock and then pleasure in his size. That he was big enough to actually scare his lovers a little. “Rub it for me doll, it’s so hard for you.” His wide back was bowed, kissing her breasts again as he moved her hand on him, circling the tip with her soft palm and then wrapping her fingers tighter against his shaft. “Just like that, get me ready.” 

And then, his favorite moment, the one that always got him off when he was pleasuring himself. Up on his knees and looming over her, blocking out the dim light from the fire and his vast shadow covering her. His biceps moved smoothly under his skin as he pulled her thighs around him again and he watched his cock breach her. He loved her rush of breath, like all the air was sucked from her because there wasn’t any room for anything but him. He brushed his rough thumb over her swollen button, watching her stomach tighten against him. “I’m going to split you wide open,” he groaned. “Beg your Captain. Beg me to fuck you.”

One huge hand covered her abdomen. He could actually feel himself pushing through her channel from the outside, and he got even harder, which he hadn't thought was possible. The women left at the end of the world were all haggard. They'd beg to fuck him but lie still and listless, interested mainly in the food and medical supplies he's given them. Drawing his hips back, he pushed up inside her hard, muffling another shriek from her. His girl was perfect. ‘Rina was perfect, pulsing that tight cunt against him like it was trying to squeeze him out again. Widening his knees to spread her legs farther, Steve flexed his hips, tightening his ass and moving faster now, harder and harder until her entire body was shaking with the force of his thrusts. “This feel good, baby?” he grunted, “So good for your Captain. You’re so good…” Lightly tapping her clitoris, he felt her clamp down on his cock and nearly came, hips frozen and blond head thrown back, groaning. “I’m not coming until you do,” he warned, sweat dripping into his eyes, “so be good and ask me.”

“Wh- what?” It was endearing how she was trying to concentrate for him, a desperate little furrow on her smooth brow. “What do you want me to … oh!” She lost her train of thought at a particularly deep thrust and he kissed her cheek soothingly.

“Just say, ‘please Captain, may I come?'” Her hands were on his back now, sliding against his sweaty skin and trying to grab on to him, to anchor herself. “Can you do that, ‘Rina?” Her eyes were still wide, staring into his, mouth moving as if trying to form the words to please him but not quite managing it. “C’mon baby, you’re taking my cock so well, but I can go forever. You gotta ask me. Ask your Captain.”

She was so close, he could feel it, her desperate little pussy clamping down on him, so wet that their thighs were sticky. “Please, C- C- Captain! Captain, may I come?”

Sliding his hands under her, cradling her shoulderblades Steve yanked her up easily, loving the strength of his bulging arms surrounding her as he went back on his heels and bounced her up and down. “So light, ‘Rina, like a doll,” he rasped, “we’re gonna come now, just the way I told you.” One more thrust and he could feel the head of his cock ram against her cervix and that was it. They came together, Steve putting his hand behind her head and burying it in his shoulder. “Bite down,” he huffed, “you won’t hurt me. Bite down and keep quiet now.” He felt her cunt grip him tightly just as he exploded and he groaned, her sharp teeth digging into his hard shoulder. Wrapping his long arms around her, folding her into his body, he felt a fierce, masculine pride. Here was his good girl. The girl he deserved.

  
  



	3. Good Girls do as They're Told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a heatwave melts even the chilliest reluctance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my beloved @uglywombat. Thank you for luring me to the dark side, sweetie!
> 
> Well damnit. Okay. I have ONE MORE chapter. That's it. Sorry!

Hiking back to the treehouse the next morning, you struggled to keep up a casual conversation with the man who’d ravished you thoroughly the night before. This wasn’t like life in the city, where if things got awkward you could just … never see him again. Manhatten was a big goddamn place when you wanted to avoid someone. But even with the vast forest around them, there was nowhere to be but … together. Did Steve regret being with you? Did he just figure you were a handy hookup? Did maybe Captain America care about you? 

Ugh. It was like high school again, except for this time with psychopaths who wanted to murder or eat you.

Plus ... your steps slowed for a moment as Steve plowed through the underbrush, still managing to be silent as a panther. Did you agree to last night? Did he ask you? Did you say yes? Why couldn't you remember? The first truly clear memory was waking up underneath the Captain, still naked. But his thickly-lashed eyes had opened and he'd smiled down at you, kissing you thoroughly.

“Marina?”

You looked up to see his huge body turned to you, brow furrowed. “Oh, sorry Steve, I didn’t realize I’d slowed down.”

He put an arm around your shoulders. “You’re still recovering from your injuries, that tumble had to have set you back a bit.” Squeezing you, he added, “And call me Captain.”

Bucky greeted the two of you with arms crossed over his massive chest and a frown. “What the fuck happened? I was ready to go searching for you.”

“I had a roll down a hillside and into a mud pit full of the deaders,” you sighed, “Steve-”

“-Captain,” he corrected.

“Uh, Captain,” you amended uncomfortably, noticing the odd smirk Bucky wore, “ripped them into pieces and found us a cave to stay in overnight.”

"Our girl was pretty banged up," Steve added, "I think you're back on bedrest for another few days, doll."

You held back an irritated expression because really, you did feel pretty good. Which was surprising given the beating you'd taken the week before and the collision course with every tree trunk, sharp branch and rock you'd had last night. You should feel worse? Pondering this, you allowed Bucky to take you from Steve and settle you back on the bed, pulling off your muddy boots. "Really," you tried to protest, "I'm not bad, I can-"

"Shhh..." Bucky's big palm was rubbing your back. "Just sleep for a while." And because it was easier to rest a minute than trying to bat his gigantic paws away from you, you closed your eyes and dozed on and off.

But you heard bits and pieces of their conversation.

"...was she?" Masculine laughter, that tone- that certain tone that only men speaking of sex could get.

"Even better. She's strong. Stronger than we thought... soon..."

"...now? ... patient enough!"

"Soon, Bucky. Soon enough."

When you woke up late, late that night to the screams and the laughter carried on the wind, you were sandwiched between two enormously muscled bodies radiating enough heat to rival a Swedish sauna. When you wiggled enough to wipe your forehead, Bucky stirred, putting a warm palm on your face. “You okay, doll?”

You nodded, acutely aware that your cheek was rubbing against the vast expanse of his chest. “It’s the screaming. And the laughing. It’s bad tonight.”

He stilled, listening while he absently smoothed your hair. “We’re going to stop that. I promise. Has it been like that the whole time you’ve been hiding out here?”

Shuddering, you couldn’t help it. “Yes. Sometimes much worse. Closer. Sometimes…” your throat closed up. “Sometimes, I think I hear kids screaming.”

Steve, who was glued to your back, sleepily tightened his arms around your waist. Bucky watched him for a moment, then those cool, blue-grey eyes settled back on you. “Not much longer sweetheart. We promise.”

“What are you going to do?” Your eyes were drooping, his huge hand was surprisingly gentle on the back of your head.

Dropping a kiss on your forehead, he soothed, “We’re going to kill them all. All the sick bastards who are doing this.”

You should have been horrified by the casual violence of Bucky's words, but it was oddly comforting instead, and you fell back asleep.

___________________________

The awkward issue of having sex with one super-soldier while living cheek by jowl with the other was settled by Bucky leaving the treehouse the next morning to “go on reconnaissance.” The two had a complicated discussion involving coordinates and referring to the still-working GPS they’d brought with them. You recognized just enough to point out a section they’d overlooked. 

“I was here about three weeks ago. There’s still a swarm of the deaders there.”

Bucky finished strapping on his backpack and a seemingly endless series of guns and knives. “Thanks, I’ll make sure I scout it again. They’ll probably go dormant when we get into winter, with the ice and snow.” He shuddered slightly and you frowned.

“You don’t like the cold?”

He exchanged a look with Steve, who was hovering behind you. “No.”

Bucky had barely disappeared behind the trees when Steve pulled you backward, molding you against him, all hard planes against the softness of your ass and thighs.

“Mmmmmm, I’ve been wanting you all morning.” His mouth was on your neck, sliding down and gently biting your shoulder. “How are you feeling, baby?”

To your horror, a girlish little giggle erupted between your lips. 

“Good enough,” he growled, and you were suddenly on your back, shirt off and staring at the ceiling of the treehouse while his hot tongue ran a wet stripe down between your breasts.

Sex with Captain America was beyond mind-blowing. Even though you were terribly sore in very intimate spots and even sitting down took an effort, you just couldn’t turn him down. The minute Steve’s hands landed on your skin, you flushed, a painful heat turning you pink and sensitive. When Bucky returned four days later, you’d christened every square inch of the treehouse, and likely every tree and patch of grass within a mile radius, you were certain.

“How’s our girl?” His heavily muscled arms wrapped around you, lifting you off your feet before you could say a word.

Steve ran his hand along your shoulder, standing so close that his chest was pressed against his best friend’s arms. It was overwhelming. They enclosed you completely, and you could feel the heat radiating off their skin, the spicy, pine scent of the man behind you and the earthy, woodsy smell from Bucky. It was comforting for a moment, then you twisted, trying to get loose. “I’m good, I just - let go of me guys, you’re gigantic and it’s like being at the bottom of a well between you two!” You tried to make a joke of it, but you pushed harder when the wall of muscle around you didn't move.

The treehouse was quiet and suddenly stifling. Thick arms surrounding you, chests broad with muscle covering you, front and back. “Shhhh…” Steve whispered from behind you. “You’re so sweet. We haven’t held someone sweet for a long time.”

‘We?’ you thought, ‘Like they both…?’ “Yeah, okay,” you put on your ‘I’m a lawyer, asshole,’ voice and pushed again. “But you have to stop. I don’t like this now.” To your relief, they did, both stepping away in eerie unison, arms dropping to their sides. 

“Sorry, doll,” Bucky said, but you didn’t think he really was.

That evening you were leaning against the outer railing of the treehouse, fanning yourself and hoping for a stray breeze. It was late September, almost five months to the day since Stark’s disastrous genetic games kicked off the end of the world. “I thought it would be cold by now,” you complained. “Upper New York state sometimes even has snow in September.”

Steve leaned an elbow on the wood next to you. “Not this year. This drought keeps on like this and who knows when we’ll see snow. It might affect how we get water up here.” He was right- the cool, green forest you remembered from Stark’s camp that summer was bone-dry. Many of the little streams had dried up, leaving viscous mud that insisted on clinging to boots and clothing. The changing leaves flared briefly before drying up and falling with a rattling noise that reminded you uncomfortably of the deaders. “I’m heading out tomorrow morning, sweetheart.”

You twisted to look at him. “Really? Do you have to?” It tumbled out before you knew how needy it sounded and you cringed a little at the smug expression on his perfectly proportioned face.

“Aw, doll … are you gonna miss your Captain?” His long fingers were already sliding into your underwear and you shifted your hips.

“Steve- I mean, Captain? Bucky’s right inside, we shouldn’t-”

Stopping you with a kiss, he breathed in your startled gasp when his fingers pushed up inside you. “Then you better be quiet for me.” 

Burying you face in his broad shoulder, you groaned internally. It was bad enough that there was a flimsy wall separating you from the man inside. It was worse that you knew Bucky had superb hearing and could probably even smell your slick making Steve’s fingers shiny. Digging your teeth into his skin, you tried to keep quiet when he lifted you easily, one hand under your ass, the other wrapping your leg around his waist. When his thick cock started tunneling it’s way through you, your vision blurred as your wet channel tightened against him.

“There’s my sweet cunt,” he whispered, “already so wet for your Captain.”

He was gone in the morning, kissing you before you even really woke up enough to do more than mumble goodbye. But as you made breakfast, you could tell Bucky was trying to distract you, and you were grateful for it.

“C’mon doll. Let’s go check the traps and the fishing lines.” He gave you a kind smile and handed you your knife, threading the scabbard through your belt. He’d been patiently teaching you how to throw the blade and how to cut up the small animals you’d caught. It was the self-defense lessons that rattled you.

“Do it again.”

“Bucky…” you whined, “it’s 600 degrees out here and those fish are frying on their own, right there in the dirt. Can we head back to the treehouse?”

“One more time.” His beautiful face was expressionless, and you wondered if this was how he’d looked as the Winter Soldier. Shivering against a sudden chill, you turned back to throw the knife at the target on the tree again. Your fingers were tired and sweaty, and suddenly the razor-sharp blade twisted oddly, running across the inside of your arm before you knew what was happening.

“Oh, shit- I-” Blood poured out from the long cut, even spurting as you tried to bend your arm and Bucky grabbed you, holding you motionless as he put pressure on the wound. His lips pressed together, eyes darting around the clearing. As he whipped off his shirt and tied it tightly around your bloody forearm, you heard the first groans. The deaders. Of course, there would be deaders close by just at the moment you cut yourself.

“OOOOF!” 

It was the last noise you made as the soldier threw you over his shoulder, your diaphragm landing harshly against his solid body. You wheezed quietly, watching a straggling line of six, maybe seven walking corpses lurch into the clearing as Bucky rapidly scaled the ladder to the treehouse, pulling it up behind you. 

“I need you to be as quiet as you can,” Bucky was holding the edges of the severed skin together with one hand and fishing through his gear bag with the other. He pulled out something that looked like a high-tech stapler and put it on your stomach while he squeezed rubbing alcohol over the cut. The burn searing through your arm made you strangle down a scream and he yanked off a leather wrist cuff. “Bite on this sweetheart. You gotta be quiet. Not a sound.”

Your eyes were wide and wet with tears but you nodded. When the first staple from the suture gun dug into your arm, your eyes squeezed shut. Then the next, and the next. You were sure you were screaming inside but nothing got past your teeth, desperately clenched into the leather. Twenty or thirty-seven hours or nineteen days later when Bucky finally stopped jabbing the metal staples through your skin, the blood was covering your shirt and pooling under you. ‘On the bright side,’ you thought woozily, ‘I finally feel chilly.’ You appreciated how refreshing it was as you lost consciousness.

_______________________

Bucky groaned internally as he wrapped gauze and a pressure bandage around her arm. Her skin was paper-white and it reminded him oddly of the heavy makeup the girls used on their skin when he was young. Her lips were full and so pink. Their girl would have the sexiest smile with her mouth painted red with lipstick. Putting that thought aside, he pulled out some tubing and a fine-tipped catheter from the medical kit. Last time, Steve had given her blood, just to speed up the healing process. This time, she wouldn't make it without his enhanced transfusion. Idly flexing his fist, he watched the thick, almost purple fluid leave his arm and flow into hers. "It's okay, baby." he whispered, "Daddy's got you."

_____________________

The treehouse was flooded with sunlight when you finally woke up, and the oppressive heat was back, beading as sweat on your forehead and making you desperately thirsty. “Bu- Bucky?” you croaked, trying to get up on one elbow.

He was there in a second, gently pushing you back. “Don’t try to get up. You lost a lot of blood.” Holding a water bottle for you, he helped you drink. “How do you feel?”

You frowned thoughtfully. You should feel … a lot worse, right? But now that you were sitting up and drank down the entire bottle Bucky held to your lips, you felt surprisingly good. “I’m okay. I’m sorry, that was such a stupid accident-”

“Don’t apologize, ‘Rina. I shouldn’t have pushed you when you were tired. Let me take a look at your wound, I need to clean it and rebandage your arm.” You settled back against the pillow and watched his face as he swiftly checked the staples, his eyes intent on his work and his lush mouth pressed together. 

“Thank you for saving my ass. Again.” He looked up briefly and smiled at you. “I swear I didn’t banged up like this before you guys came here. Maybe my bad luck was waiting so you’d be here to keep patching me up.” You glanced down for a moment and gasped. “Wait- Bucky- how…?” Your arm was red around the staples, but it was already smaller and without the purplish, raised scar tissue you were expecting. Even the numbness you’d expected from so many small nerves severed wasn’t there.

Swiftly covering the cut and wrapping the bandage, he gave you an easy smile. “It wasn’t as bad as we thought, doll. Lucky, huh?”

“Yeah…” you echoed, still frowning, “lucky.” 

It was the third day since Steve had left, and Bucky kept you entertained with stories from their childhood. “So that idiot clocked the guy over the head with his own beer bottle when he wouldn’t stop bugging the dame, the guy’s twice his size!” His love for his best friend was obvious, a rare smile on his face. You watched his sculpted face, softer now.

“You were always his protector,” you mused, “his brother. Is it weird now, everyone knowing about the two of you, your childhoods, the war? I mean, shit, every grade-schooler learns about you!” 

He didn’t smile, the way you’d expected. Bucky smiled. It was not a pleasant smile, and it made you shiver. “They don’t know anything about us. Not who we really are. No one does.” You waited silently, thinking he’d laugh it off, but when he looked at you, his eyes were the same blue-grey of the Atlantic ocean with a storm blowing in.

The whole afternoon suddenly felt deathly still, the heat smothering you. “Hey,” you tried to make Bucky look at you again, to take away that scary look, “I think the water pump’s going to burn out if we try to take a shower. Let’s go down to the river. We can clean up, take a swim, cool off? I’ll try to dunk you when you least expect it?”

It had the desired effect, and Bucky’s grin was rakish. “You’re on, doll.”

“Ohhh, this is so much better,” you moaned happily, floating on the surface of the sluggish current. 

Bucky was swimming alongside you, watching the banks, then looking at your nipples poking so enticingly through your sports bra. He’d casually stripped down to nothing, chuckling as you abruptly turned your back. The water was almost bathwater warm, but it was better than the stifling heat of the treehouse. He pulled you onto a rock poking out of the water, ignoring your protests. “You’re still healing, Rina. You don’t want to pop your stitches.”

You gave an unladylike snort. “Please. Those staples are ready to come out, you know they are! That cut must have been so shallow, the scar’s not even that red any more.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, “not as bad as we thought.” But his tone was flat, like he was humoring you. Giant arms flexing, Bucky began pulling you closer. 

You sighed a little. The man was so stupidly gorgeous. A work of art. His skin gleaming as the water dried, each muscle precisely and perfectly outlined like some X-rated physiology class. His long hair was sticking to his face and without thinking, your hand reached out to push it back, running your fingers through the thick strands and smoothing them.

When you looked back at him, his eyes were almost feral, pupils expanded and skin stretched tight over his high cheekbones. His fingers tightened on your waist, and it shook you out of your daze. “Bucky? We should probably get dressed?”

Sitting up, he suddenly shifted you, straddling you over one thick thigh. His thighs had always made you squirm internally, how they flexed and moved. You’d never seen such powerfully muscled legs and now your wet center was pressed against one. Praying that he thought the moisture was just from your soaked undies, you tried to pull off. “Ah, ah, little girl,” he chided, sounding a little amused, “you stay right there.” Then his mouth was on yours as his hands loosely grasped your hips, pulling you even closer and deliberately dragging your pussy over the hard muscle. His mouth was against yours and he whispered, “You just be still and let me make you feel good.”

“I- ohhhh… _god,_ Bucky!” His mouth was on yours, flicking his tongue through your lips and tracing along your mouth with a surprising delicacy. But his hands … They were pushing you back and forth, slowly, lusciously dragging your swelling clit against the fabric of your underwear. 

“Put your hands on my shoulders and keep them there.” His voice was husky, he was purring into your ear and then nibbling on your earlobe and you mindlessly did as you were told. Long fingers went behind you and easily opened the hooks on your sports bra and he pulled it up, growling with approval as he stared down at your breasts. “So pretty, baby. Look at you.”

__________________________

Goddamn.

His girl was pretty, Bucky thought, every muscle taut with arousal now that he finally, _finally_ had their sweet little Rina for himself. Fucking Rogers, boning her on every level surface in the treehouse, knowing Bucky could smell her where they ate, where they sat and slept. Fuck, he couldn't even get any relief on the narrow deck outside! And she smelled so sweet. Just the way he knew she would. Bending his head to suckle on one pink tip and then the other, Bucky focused on squeezing her perfect breasts carefully. No hurting them, no bruises on his girl's breasts. 

Yet.

Her wide, startled eyes were staring into his, close enough that he could see the golden flecks floating in the pale green of her iris. He grinned, filthy, knowing, and enjoyed Marina's flush. "You're just soaking, babygirl, soaking wet. And not from the water." She tried to look away and his hand took her chin, turning her back to face him. "No, you're going to look at me. I want you to know who's getting you off." Her nails dug into his shoulders, but Bucky barely noticed, lifting her easily and yanking off her panties. Marina shivered and let out a tiny moan when he pressed her back down on his thigh, the thick strands of muscle flexing and parting her swelling lips, pushing against her clitoris. 

“Yeah, I’ve waited for this,” he groaned, sucking a nipple into his mouth again, biting it lightly. She jumped a little and her legs tightened around his, which only made her slick center push harder against his thigh. “You rub that tender little pussy against me.” Flexing deliberately, he felt her squeeze him again. Angling her hips, he pushed them forward and it pressed her clit right on his skin, the light dusting of hair there rubbing her so unbearably. It itched her, but he didn’t offer her any relief. “That feel good, baby? You ride my leg until you come hard. Don’t stop.” Her pretty mouth was open, she was gasping but she obeyed him, hips swaying back and forth gracefully as she tried to find that perfect pressure he’d used on her. When a frown appeared, Bucky chuckled. “You need daddy to help you, don’t you?” He was painfully hard, looking at the wet streaks of slick his girl was leaving on his leg. “Dirty little girl, getting your daddy all wet. I won’t make you this time, but from now on, you’re going to have to lick my leg clean when you come all over it. And you are coming, aren’t you?”

Her nails were really digging into him now, but he enjoyed it, hands slipping down to squeeze her ass hard as he pushed her down one last time, feeling her agile hips swirl and rub furiously, back arching as she moaned and came on him, soft breasts pushing into the wall of his chest. “There’s my good little girl,” he kissed her just under her ear as Marina slumped against him, forehead resting on his shoulder. “You came just like I told you to. And now,” he lifted her easily until her pussy was hovering just over his hugely swollen cock, “you’re ready for daddy.”

Bucky could tell when she finally got a look at him because Marina’s eyes widened comically and she shook her head. “N- no, I don’t- holy shit, that’s-” and then the only thing that left her lips was a drawn-out gasp as she tried to stop her downward path. 

“Fuuuck, doll. That’s so good,” he groaned. He could feel the swollen tip of him push through her tight entrance with almost an audible ‘pop!’ He’d never felt anything so hot. His dick was on fire and for the first time since he’d been thawed out by Hydra, Bucky felt warm. His frozen core was melting and he feverishly pushed her down harder, crossing his arms over her back and holding on to her shoulders. “Keep moving, you’re making daddy feel so good. So hot. Jesus Christ, you’re melting me-”

Her silky wet was squelching in a deliciously filthy way, soaking his hairy pelvis, dripping down his balls and Bucky pushed up harder, wanting to feel the end of her. The tip of him felt the tiny, grasping points of her cervix and he damn near came. But not before her. “Come on now, little girl, you’re gonna come for me one more time.”

She was surprisingly quiet, he’d been sure their girl was a screamer. So quiet. Marina finally whispered, “I can’t. God, Bucky, I’m too- it’s too much!”

Leaning in, he pulled her sports bra - still around her neck and unnoticed after he’d yanked it off those perfect tits - tighter around her throat. Not too tight. Just enough to make his girl noticed and her orgasm dial back a bit. “Oh, it’s not too much, baby. You can take a lot more than this.” His hips started thrusting up sharply, almost dislodging her from his cock and his fist twisted the fabric one more rotation, making her breath hitch. “You’re gonna have to come if you want to breathe right,” Bucky said with a grin. “Come on now, be a good girl and soak daddy’s dick. I want you to. Flood me.”

Marina’s lovely skin was turning red, her lips moving silently, but as Bucky’s cock swelled painfully wider, she did as she was told. Every muscle turned to concrete and her head tipped back bonelessly as his good girl’s cunt flexed and squeezed and pulled the come right out of him. 

Stroking her heaving back, Bucky loosened the sports bra from her neck and murmured soothing things, praising his good little girl for doing as she was told.


	4. Incendiary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroine learns the meaning of "Out of the frying pan and into the fire." Quite literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning again for dubcon and Dark!Steve and Dark!Bucky... just reminding you.

Waking the next morning, you purred as little as you felt the weight of a muscled arm slung over your waist, the deep, even breaths of the man behind you. You never had much time to date in the old world and you never had men stay over. It was such a luxury, you thought, to wake curled into a man who enclosed you so completely. And Steve smelled so-

Oh, shit.

You put your hands to your face. 'Shit shit shit shit,' you groaned internally. 'I couldn't just be happy with having epic supersoldier sex with Steve? I had to go muck this up by having ... well, shit ... also epic supersoldier sex with Bucky? I'm not cut out for this! This isn't me! But ... goddamn, Bucky is so-'

"I can hear you thinking, doll." 

The sleepy voice of the man behind you was more than a touch amused, and you cringed again. "Morning, Bucky."

"Ah, ah ah," now his voice was definitely amused. "You're getting all worked up, and not in a fun way."

He pulled on your shoulder until you reluctantly rolled over on your back, leaning over you, caging you with his arms. “You gonna tell me why you’re freaking out?”

Looking up at him, you felt a little twinge in the general area of your heart. Bucky was so fucking beautiful. Even his metal arm, weak sunlight gleaming off of it sent a spray of radiance around the little room. He was looking down at you with an indulgent smile, which you suddenly wanted to smack right off his face.

“I’m not … you know … adventurous,” you attempted to sound confident but knew what was coming out of your mouth was anything but. “This…” making a gesture between the two of you, “and then Steve, it’s way more intense than I’m. Shit. I don’t do this stuff.”

“No,” Bucky drawled, looming over you with his smug, gorgeous leer, “in the old world, you didn’t do ‘this stuff.’” He had the nerve to make the mocking quotation marks with his thick fingers. “This is the new world, baby.” He was suddenly slotted between your (rather chafed) thighs and rubbing back and forth. “Steve and I have been everywhere you can imagine, and some places you don't want to since the world went to shit, there's not many normal, healthy women left. Neither one of us is normal, I got to admit,” he gave a shameless grin as he felt the front of your undies leave a wet spot on his naked thigh. “But we're lucky that we found a beautiful girl like you. We’ll take care of you, ‘Rina. We’ll be inseparable.”

The sound of it - the way Bucky said it - made you pause. Your hands were on his massive shoulders, one finger absently tracing the crease between his flesh and metal addition. "Are you and Steve inseparable?"

He frowned, grey-blue eyes staring down into yours. "What do you mean, doll?"

"Is there no one without the other, Bucky?"

Grinning, he leaned down to run his mouth along your jawline. “Now, how could you have one of us without the other? You tell me you can pick between us now?”

There was something frozen, a lump in your throat you couldn’t seem to swallow down. “Did Steve- shit, did Steve leave so you and I would get together? Did you two plan this?” You were writhing like an infuriated eel underneath him, trying to get loose from his massive body.

Chuckling in a way that put you about two inches away kneeing him in the balls, Bucky easily held you down, legs spreading yours wider and collaring your wrists together. “Stop it, baby, you’re just going to hurt yourself.” The soldier’s tone was no longer indulgent, turning cooler, matter-of-fact. You stilled for a moment, panting angrily. After admiring your heaving breasts for a moment, he looked up at you again. “Are you ready to listen to daddy, babygirl?”

“You’re not my daddy!” You were furious, what the fuck? You graduated first in your class from Columbia Law School! You weren’t this whiney little bitch who called someone _daddy._ You-

You were, actually, on your back and this tall, beautiful son of a bitch had his greedy mouth on your center, licking and sucking away, humming in a pleased way that was vibrating clear down to your toes. "Goddamn, you're sweet," Bucky groaned, circling your clit with his tongue and then pressing it between his lips, humming again as your knees tried to close against the fireball suddenly making its way through your pussy and then you were coming, whether you wanted to or not. Running those big hands up your legs, he diabolically pressed his thumbs in the sensitive hollow where your thigh met your center and it made every muscle turn to concrete. "That's it, 'Rina, you come again," the soldier purred, pressing his thumbs again and jabbing his tongue up your channel. Even if you could have remembered the word “no,” there was no way in hell you could say it between your helpless moans. You’d never come so fast.

“Ohhh, doll. You’re so pretty when you come.”

With a shriek you managed to strangle before it left your lips you glared up at a smug Steve Rogers, leaning against the open door, arms crossed over that outrageously massive chest. And the worst part? As Bucky pushed two thick fingers inside you, wiggling and stroking and goddamnit, you came again.

"I hate you both," you groaned as Bucky wet a cloth and cleaned between your legs while Steve leaned over to kiss your cheek when you stubbornly turned your face away.

"No, you don't," he soothed, stroking the hair back from your sweaty forehead. "You're just feeling a little embarrassed and there is - trust me - there is nothing that should make you feel that way, doll. You're beautiful. We've been looking everywhere, and-" Steve's patriotic blue eyes met his friend's narrowed ones and he smiled at you instead. "We treasure you, 'Rina. We'll take care of you."

Pulling away from Bucky and pulling your undies up your hips, you attempted to regain a little dignity. “I took care of myself for months before you came along, guys. You saved my life - twice, okay, three times - but I’m not helpless.” They did that … thing again, where one stepped up behind you, one in front. Arms winding around you with kisses and compliments. You were completely enclosed in hard, warm, muscle and you fought against relaxing. But god, it felt good.

Steve cut up a deer he’d killed on the way back to the treehouse and you listened to them talk as you cooked. “The herd patterns are changing,” he said, pulling out a bottle of something clear and offering it to Bucky. He chuckled, shaking his head but took a huge gulp anyway. 

“You know this isn’t going to do anything for us, punk,” he said, taking another swallow before passing it back.

“Yeah, but it still seems like old times just to have a drink again. Nothing like that everclear-tasting stuff that Tony manufactured in his lab, remember?”

Bucky started laughing. It was loud, careless and it made you want to smack him on the head with your spatula. You’d trained yourself to be nearly silent, and these two… “I remember. A billionaire creating a still in the middle of his high-tech lab. But we actually got drunk for at least, what, about 30 minutes?”

“If that,” Steve laughed, taking a swallow himself.

When you brought over the venison breakfast, Steve hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you down on his lap. “Drink?” He offered you the bottle, and the fumes alone made your eyes water. 

“Good God, what is that? It smells like gasoline!” You tried to rise and move into your own chair, but his arm tightened. Bucky’s chewing slowed, he was watching the two of you closely. “Steve-”

“Call me Captain,” he murmured, running his nose up the line of your neck.

Closing your eyes and ignoring the fact that your center just turned as blazing as the sun outside, you said, “I want to sit on my own chair.”

There was silence from the other two, and you forced yourself to look at him. To your alarm, it wasn’t easy. His blue gaze was a disappointed one, but you didn’t blink. His arms loosened and you moved to the last chair. Taking a stab at the salad you'd created from some greens and berries scavenged from the woods, Bucky said, "I haven't had anything green in six months. This is great."

As the day stretched on, you felt like your nerves were, too. While the supersoldiers didn’t get really intoxicated - “It’s the serum, doll.” - they got louder, laughing and clinking glasses together. Finally, unable to take it, you snapped, “Please, you two are freaking me out! Being so noisy is like an open invitation to the bad men to show up.”

Steve quirked a brow. “Bad men. You sound like a little girl when you say that, ‘Rina.”

You tried not to shudder, but you did. “It’s because they’re the monsters under the bed. Not the deaders. The bad men are every nightmare I ever had. I’d rather be eaten by the things than caught by those bastards.” They exchanged a glance, which you were beginning to hate. It was as if they were holding a conversation you weren’t invited to. 

“You won’t have to worry about them much longer, sweetheart.” Steve’s bearded face was kind, smiling at you. “Bucky and I have been making some tactical arrangements over the last couple of weeks.”

“Like what?” you asked.

Bucky spoke first, “We’re going to make sure we wipe them all out. Leave one or two and the whole sick cycle starts over again.”

“What about the poor women they’ve caught?” You were trying not to let yourself hope. But if anyone could wipe the living hell these men had created off the face of the earth, it was Steve and Bucky.

“I’ve gone through the old Avenger’s training compound,” Steve said, “that’s where I’ve been, making sure it wasn’t compromised. We’ll create a safety zone. It’s not far from here.”

You couldn’t help it, you threw your arms around him. “Oh, god, that’s- shit, that’s amazing! We could rescue the slaves! Thank you!” Steve’s huge arms went around you, and this time, it was comforting. 

“Hey,” Bucky pointed at his chest, "reconnaissance, remember? Dangerous?" His false, wounded tone made you laugh, and you hugged him too. Standing there between them, one soldier’s lips on your forehead, the other’s on your jaw, you let yourself relax. Just a little.

But the night was not comforting. Not at all.

It started when Bucky went down the ladder with a rakish wink, replying, “Reconnaissance, doll,” when you asked where he was going. And then Steve’s hands were sliding under your shirt and pulling off your leggings, murmuring how much he’d missed you.

“Knowing you were here and how good you feel?” He kissed down your neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin and enjoying the red marks he left. “I was so hard and distracted, I’m lucky I didn’t walk into a herd of deaders.”

Running your hands over his chest, loving the strength there, you ran your tongue around one nipple. “Well, if I’m taking you off your game, I’ll just button my shirt back up-” And then the offending item was whipped over your head and tossed across the room and you were laughing as he brought you down on the bed, squeezing your breasts with his big, rough hands.

“So pretty, baby…” he crooned, sliding one thick thigh between yours, the light hair tickling your inner thighs. When he pushed against a sore spot left by Bucky’s stubble, you tensed. Lifting his head, he studied you. “What’s the matter?”

You were torn. You were dying to feel his thick cock inside you, but you’d just had his best friend exactly where he was just this morning. And it felt… “You walked in on us this morning. You watched."

He arched his brow as if to say, "So?"

"It feels weird, Steve." He'd stopped rubbing against you, which at least allowed enough blood flow to your brain to let it function. "I know you two, you know, share. You probably do it together. But I- goddamnit, I can't get around that. I can't be in a threesome."

"Language..." he murmured, his deep voice still calm. "So, you can't be with us together. But you can be with us one at a time?"

"Uh..." he was rubbing his thick and heavy cock against your clit and rapidly swelling lips again and your ability to reason was decreasing by the second. “We…”

Steve was laughing now while he centered the tip at your entrance, pushing in with a careful motion and enjoying your corresponding moan. The vibrations from his chuckling were pulsating along your nerve endings in a really distracting way. “Are you sure, sweetheart? Because you’re so beautiful, this pretty pussy and your mouth? One of us holding you, playing with your pink nipples while the other fucks into you? Two men worshipping you like the goddess you are, ‘Rina?” 

‘I’m going to die,’ you thought dimly, ‘he’s going to talk and fuck me to death.’

His hips were moving faster, big hands sliding along your ribcage and gripping your waist tightly. “I fucking love your little waist, baby. I can span it and touch my fingers together.”

“You- you sure as hell can’t do that with my hips,” you wheezed, he was jolting you across the thin bed and you were pretty sure the top of your head was about to bash through the wall.

Steve laughed, making your cunt ripple with the vibration again. “You like sleeping between us, like a kitten. You stretch and purr like one. You like us keeping you warm?”

He flipped you over and began thrusting into you from behind, pulling you back against him as he sat on his heels, letting you rest against that miles-wide chest as he fucked you. Tucking his chin into the hollow between your shoulder and neck, he ran his fingers down to your clit, gently batting it back and forth. “You love how we curl against you. Watch over you.” His cock was reaching places inside you that you weren’t quite sure it was supposed to.

‘I should have paid more attention in anatomy class,’ you thought, just before you came, slapping a hand over your mouth because really, you felt like screaming. Screaming to the world that even though Captain America could be an arrogant asshole, he was divine, just fucking divine in bed.

You smelled the smoke just as Steve was cleaning himself from you.

"Oh, god..." you whispered, "not a fire. Not here!" Clumsily yanking on whatever items of clothing were in reach, you bolted for the tiny deck. No. Oh, shit, no way.

The smoke was billowing in white clouds over the treetops.

"White smoke," Steve drawled, pulling on his jeans as he stepped out. He was still bare-chested, mainly because you were wearing his shirt. "White smoke means the fire's just starting to consume material. When it goes black, that means it's bringing down trees, everything in its path."

You stared at him, heart pounding so hard you were choking on it. "How can you be so calm! Oh, god! We have to get out of here! And- oh, shit! Bucky!"

"Language..." he murmured again.

"Aw, baby. Were you worried about me? That's so sweet."

You couldn't choke back your startled shriek when you turned to see Bucky behind the two of you, grinning. You threw yourself against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. "You could have died," you sobbed, "God, Bucky! I thought you were in the middle of-" The first sounds started filtering through to you and you stopped.

There was the moaning and growling. The bestial hum that you associated with the deaders. But so much louder. So much more of it. “Wh-“ you tried to swallow, “what did you say about the herd?”

Neither soldier is taking the moment with the terror it deserved, and you watched the first signs of glowing yellows, oranges, and red flicker through the branches in the distance. But then the soundtrack changed, and soaring above the monstrous horde were the screams of men. When the howls of terror grew closer, you were trying to pull your boots on, fingers shaking too much to tie them. “We have to get OUT of here,” you heaving, trying to pull in air through your terrified lungs. They were still ignoring you, massive shoulders straight, posture crisp. “Guys, what the fuck are you-“

Bucky had dragged the duffel bag full of weapons out on the platform and they both pulled out alarmingly gigantic rifles. He looked over his shoulder at you, his dark eyes alight with glee. “Watch this, baby.” He kissed you briskly on the top of your head. “You’re gonna enjoy it.” As if on cue, the first men starting tearing through the trees, screaming, some firing behind them if they still had bullets. And then the two super soldiers who saved you aimed, and started mowing down the fleeing humans. The roar of the guns was percussive, making you slam your hands over your ears.

The people below the treehouse fell just as they cleared the trees, far enough away to keep the perimeter clear, but certainly close enough for you to see their expressions of horror. You recognized a couple of them, men who’d hunted you before their heads exploded, bits of brain and matter spraying the pines and oak trees. And … it seemed like a few recognized you, too. Not you, you realized, as one looked up and pointed at Steve. “Hey, wait, wait man! We’re-“

Chuckling, Captain America shot him to pieces.

It was when the deaders staggered out next that you realized what happened. The fire pushed the people out of their compound, and the remains of what was once human came after them, flushing them out for the endless rounds of bullets. “Are you INSANE?” you screamed, your underused vocal cords straining, “They’re coming right for the treehouse!”

Bucky looked over his broad shoulder, his eyes alight in a way you’d never seen. “This ain’t a treehouse, doll. This is a fucking hunting blind! And we’re the hunters.” There were hundreds of deaders stumbling over the corpses of men, drawn to the noise and the flashes of light from the gun barrels. With that eerie synchronicity you’d seen before, both soldiers dropped their smoking weapons and picked up another. Backing into your refuge, your violated home, you picked up your backpack and your knives Bucky gave you, strapping them on. Grabbing a small handgun, you tucked it into the waistband on your jeans and slipped over to the ladder, riding it to the ground and then you just ran. Ran in the opposite direction of the fire and screams and death.

You’d never quite gotten your breath back, it kept hitching in your chest. They were insane. You’d been fucking two Avengers who apparently went insane somewhere at the end of the world, laughing and blasting away thousands of rounds of ammunition into hundreds of bodies. They set that forest fire. You knew it. Everything for countless miles was bone-dry. No firefighters to stop what was coming.

They were burning down the world and your only home with it. Angrily wiping the tears off your face and leaving a streak of soot behind, you plunged into the direction opposite of the fire.

____________________

Super senses - like hearing - should have made Marina’s escape impossible. But Bucky and Steve had to admit, they’d been having a little too much fun taking down the sick fuckers who’d been killing off innocent, useful humans - the one unforgivable crime in this new world - and the deaders who really, they were just putting out of their misery. They’d seen the solemn way their girl had finished off the poor bastards, and they’d thought it was endearing.

So, when they’d run through too many rounds of ammunition to count and the guns were too hot for even them to hold, the supersoldiers looked out of the field of battle and smiled. Hundreds- maybe thousands of bodies piled up and a firebreak they’d already constructed around the hunting blind holding perfectly.

“Yeah, we’re not going to be able to stay much longer,” Bucky was kicking spent shells off the platform, “that’s going to make a stockyard smell like roses in a day or so. And I can’t imagine our doll being able to stomach that.”

Steve shrugged his broad shoulders. “Once we’ve flushed out that last rat’s nest, we’re on our way to the compound anyway. Hey, sweetheart?” He turned around, “You can come out, it’s all over, baby. The bad men are gone.” When there was no answer, his eyes narrowed. “Are you pouting in there? Bad girl…”

“Shiiit,” Bucky shouldered him aside to enter the room. “God-DAMNIT! She’s running.”

Steve punched a hole through the wall. 

_________________

You were terrified and heartbroken, disillusioned, but you weren't careless. You'd survived alone well before the end of the world, you'd do it again. You tried to force away the memory of their laughter, those perfectly proportioned faces alight with the pleasure of dealing death. "Man, I can pick 'em," you mumbled to yourself. "This makes that guy who brought his teddy bear on our date look pretty good right now." You were eating up the miles at an impressive rate, nimbly skipping around protruding vines and hopping over fallen branches, still focused on what the hell just happened. In fact, it was over two hours later when you finally stopped to catch your breath. Holding a hand over your ribs, you frowned. Your ribs were still mending, right? How could you be moving like-

Heavy footsteps made your head snap around. They were coming from the north- flanking you and the forest fire. Reaching for the closest low-hanging branch, you shimmied up the tree with an impressive speed. The height gave you a perfect vantage point to see a clot of deaders stumbling in front of the fire making its way east. The noises you heard from the north were another group of men. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” They were better-dressed, cleaner clothes, well-fed. Clearly organized, but you still recognized at least three of them. Men who laughed as they threw other human beings into a pit to be eaten. “No rescue here,” you whispered. Eyeing the fire, you tried to figure out what kind of time you had. Unfortunately, hiding up here until either group passed by was not an option, not with the fire at their backs. Making your way down the trunk, you’d just touched the forest floor when you heard the crackle of a walkie talkie from the southern direction. 

“Copy that.”

You were off like a deer, feet digging into the leafy ground and pumping your arms, propelling forward with a speed that would have astonished you if you’d been any less focused on getting the fuck out of there. Two bodies dove from behind trees and jumped you. Yanking a knife out of your boot, you slit one’s throat while the other was clumsily grabbing your hair. You were on your back, but you managed to pull the gun from your waistband and jam it into his side, pulling the trigger. You didn’t even flinch at the spray of blood on your face. 

The next three men managed to keep you down, but only long enough for you to shoot or stab them too. Unfortunately, it was the sixth man that knocked you unconscious with the butt of his rifle.

You woke to the unwelcome feeling of cold concrete against your cheek. Opening your eyes took longer than you’d like to admit, everything fucking hurt. There were ten women in the room with you, barely covered in scraps of cloth and a couple of the most unfortunate were naked. Everyone was chained by the ankle and when you moved yours, it stopped a foot from the wall.

“You okay?” It was a flat tone, but the blonde woman who spoke to you leaned in a little, getting a look at your pale face. “If you’re gonna throw up, try to aim by the shit bucket, okay? It’s bad enough in here.”

Nodding, you instantly regretted it. Taking deep breaths, you tried to keep your stomach from surging up your throat. “Where is this?”

The other women were ignoring you, some crying, a couple staring off into space and rocking in a way that told you they were gone. It was the blonde who spoke again, pushing her greasy hair out of her eyes. “They call this fuck palace ‘The Haven.’ But it’s just a fuck palace.”

Painfully pulling off your jacket, you offered it to the youngest girl, naked and shivering. When she didn’t reach out, you scooted closer, holding it up until she cautiously slid an arm into a sleeve, and then the other. “Fuck palace…” you sighed. “So they’re raping you?” 

Blondie gave you an incredulous look and snorted. “No, we’re here for the day spa. What the fuck do you think?”

“How long have you been here?”

Her bravado deserted her and the woman looked 10 years older. “A month. I’ve lasted the longest.” You moved your hand until it was next to hers, waiting. With a sigh sounding like a sob, she took it.

Judging by the play of sunlight and night from the tiny barred window, you knew a day had gone by before the door opened again. None of the women had food or water and Karen - the blonde - told you that was not unusual. “They throw in some shit when they remember,” she said caustically, “we’ve learned to try to drink as much water as we can when they hose us down.” Still, they all scrambled back, the youngest beginning to cry silently.

The man who stood in the doorway looked directly at you, grinning. He had a fresh burn on the side of his face. “You, bitch. Get up.” Another man came around him and unlocked the shackle, roughly yanking you to your feet. You looked back at Karen, trying to smile, but she avoided your eyes.

Placing a hand in the center of your back, the burned man shoved you forward. “You got a lot of apologizing to do, cunt. You killed six of my best men. It’s gonna take you a long time to make that up to me.” The corridor was more bleak concrete and looking around, you thought it might some kind of commercial farm building. It still stank of horse manure, and under it, blood and rancid food. You stared at his burn the whole time, trying not to smile.

‘I may not make it out of here alive,’ you thought, ‘but I’m going to take these motherfuckers down with me.’

“What are you smiling about, bitch?” he spat. Huh. Guess you weren’t as expressionless as you’d thought. He backhanded you viciously, knocking you against the wall. 

“Just thinking about how much your ugly fucking face must sting right now, kitten.” You were giddy as the words left your lips. Truly ill-advised, it was a statement your favorite law professor was fond of using. When a student got flustered during mock trials and said something stupid. He backhanded you again and you started laughing. All you could think about was Professor Colby’s elderly, disapproving face.

“Look like she’s already nuts, Chief,” the other man muttered. You wiped your bloody mouth awkwardly on your shoulder, grinning at him.

Opening the double metal doors, they pulled you into a courtyard. It was well-lit, the sound of generators buzzing. “Talk about an invitation to an all-you-can-eat buffet,” you were cackling, “really? Fucking lights and the noise? Every deader in the tri-state area has to be heading here.”

“Good,” Burn-face Guy was smiling unpleasantly. “We always need fresh ones for the pit.”

And there it was, the thing you’d heard so many nights on the wind, the guttural groans of the undead bumping into the sheer walls of a pit dug into the center of the clearing. There was a trembling group of eight people, 6 men, an older woman and a… ‘Oh. Not that.’ you thought numbly, ‘Not even these fucks would-’ But it looked like the child- a boy around eight or so, was being dragged toward the pit, the old woman screaming and trying to reach for him

“Stop! Stop, don’t- not him- you can send me down, not a kid what the FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” you shouted furiously, trying to yank yourself free. Part of you knew exactly what was wrong with them. You’d prosecuted monsters like this, inhuman fucks who could kill without thought, who enjoyed inflicting horror and pain simply because they could. Burn-face Guy had his arm around your throat lifting you slightly as you kicked against him, cutting off your air supply. Slamming your head back, you heard the satisfying ‘crunch!’ of his nose as he dropped you.

“You fucking- I’m gonna watch while you get raped to death!” he screamed, trying to kick you while holding on to his gushing nose.

Then, the lights went out.

It was only dark for a moment.

Flames shot up around the compound with a roar that made your eardrums bulge painfully. Then, the barricade guarding the entrance to the enclave blew open, sending scraps of metal skyward. 

“You fucked up, Rumlow.”

You closed your eyes, torn between relief and terror. Oh, you knew that voice.

“You had one thing to do, Chief. Buddy. Pal.” Steve came strolling through the flames in his black tach suit looking like a terrifying modern-day knight. “One thing. Find the survivors. The women and children. Keep them safe.”

Bucky was casually angling to the left, stabbing the first two guards stupid enough to challenge him. His polar gaze landed on you, and you couldn’t help it, you took a step forward, only to be yanked back against Burn-face Gu- uh, Rumlow.

He laughed harshly, putting his pistol to your head, jamming it painfully into the thin skin of your temple. “I dunno, Rogers. I did something right. I’ve got your bitch. Yeah, we’ve been listening in on the transmissions. You’re not exactly running silent, big guy.”

Steve looked at you, face expressionless but he raised his eyebrows slightly. _You okay?_

Trying to smile, you nodded back.

Rumlow noticed and growled, pushing the gun in harder. “Curb your dog there, Captain America. He stabs one more of my men and I blow her brains out all over you.” 

Bucky seemed to find that amusing, chuckling as he winked at you.

The banter went back and forth between the other two as Bucky locked eyes with you. You marveled that Rumlow was so enraged by Steve’s contempt that he’d really lost track of what the other soldier was doing. Flicking his long fingers down, he gave you a signal you recognized, one he’d taught you the afternoon before you gashed open your arm like a fucking idiot. Two fingers down, a thumb thrust sideways.

“If someone’s got a gun on you,” he’d said, circling you in the clearing under the treehouse, “the first goal is to get it pointing away from you.” He gently took your wrist. “You grab it, and spin it away. Continue the energy you’ve created by twisting the arm with the gun around you to the right. Face away from where he was originally. Now, flip the gunman on the ground as you spin to the right while holding the asshole's arm. Keep your hand on the attacking arm, and take the gun. Step over him and hold his arm with your leg. Twist your wrist to break his finger in the trigger cage.” You’d ended up on your back that day with your wrist at an awkward angle, staring up at his beautiful face. 

But now… 

Rumlow was still screaming at Steve, but you could feel the change in the way he standing. He was hunching over, gripping you tighter but his hand with the gun was shaking, just slightly, against your head. The fire was burning closer and the heat was oppressive, edging towards unbearable. And when Bucky made the signal again, you grabbed Rumlow’s wrist, and it went perfectly. He was trained far better than you could ever hope to be, but he’d underestimated you. And he was on his back with a broken wrist and a finger half torn out from the force of ripping the gun away. And the burned-face bastard was stunned, you could see it, right before Bucky put a bullet right between the eyes. This time when your soldier looked up at you, grinning savagely, you grinned back. 

"Light it up for daddy, 'Rina."

So, you did. The first man you actually targeted, remembering spending the night strapped to a tree, in hiding as you listened to him rape a sobbing woman. You kept shooting until you were out of bullets. The last thing you remember was Steve behind you, saying, "What a warrior you are, doll."

  
You woke to the glare of a white, well-lit hallway. A clean, white hallway. You must be dead. Nothing was this clean at the end of the world. Steve was carrying you. “What- where are we?” You had to stop to cough some of the smoke from the forest fire out of your lungs.

  
He pushed open a swinging door with one broad shoulder, taking you to a hospital bed and putting you down gently as if you were a fragile, delicate thing. “Let’s get you checked out, sweetheart.”

“Wait-” you tried to sit up and your head was throbbing. “Who gets knocked out twice in one day?” you groaned. “Where are the other girls, the one chained with me? And the little group with the child, the ones they were going to feed to the deaders are they all-”

Bucky was on the other side of the bed now, swinging your legs under the blanket and putting up the safety rails. “They’re all taken care of, ‘Rina. We got ‘em all sorted out.” He smiled at you, but it seemed like he was looking at Steve.

“There she is! This is the survivor from Stark’s hunting blind?” The shorter man was wearing a doctor’s coat and a warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“It was a treehouse,” you mumbled, but the doctor was already gently turning your face one way, then the other, nodding with satisfaction. 

“Heartrate slightly slower, as expected. Base temperature is 100 … I’m just going to take some blood now and we’ll run some tests.” When you tried to yank your arm back, he finally looked up.

“Okay, hold up. Who are you and what are you taking my blood for?” You were getting angry, which was your go-to emotion when scared.

The man did step back for a moment. “Oh, my apologies, Marina, isn’t it? I’m Dr. Banner, I’m the physician here at the Avengers compound. We have to make sure you’re healthy before I release you into the general population.” He took your arm again while Steve stroked your tangled hair. “There’s all kinds of nasty bugs floating around out there.” You let him take the blood, but it certainly seemed like a lot of tubes. “Now, gentlemen, I need to examine Marina, so I’ll need to ask you to leave.” He put a neatly folded hospital gown on your lap and looked at the other two sternly. 

Bucky shook his head. “Can’t do that doc, she needs us with her.” He took the hem of your shirt and drew it up. “Raise your hands, doll. Let’s get you into the gown so Banner can finish.”

“Wait,” you stubbornly clung to your shirt. “Just how the hell far is this examination going? You have my blood and my vitals, what-”

“If you want to stay here, you need to submit to a full examination,” Dr.Banner’s face was no longer friendly. “This population is in perfect health, a group of enhanced individuals meant to rebuild the overwhelming loss of life from this epidemic.”

“Oh, she’s staying.” Bucky slid in behind you, arms and legs around you in a warm, steel-hard form of bondage. 

Steve stepped in and ripped your shirt down the middle, kissing you under your ear. “No fussing, little one. You’re still facing punishment for that stunt at the hunting blind. Don’t add to it.” He was tearing off your leggings and used the knife Bucky handed him to cut your boot laces and rip everything you were wearing off. “Since you’re feeling a little shy, doll,” he soothed, fluffing out the gown and placing it loosely over your squirming form.

Leaning down, Captain America, the savior of civilization countless times over, whispered in your ear. “You will lie still for the doctor and let him finish, or I will tie you to a stake outside for a week.”

“You… what the hell? Who are-” you could do nothing but splutter furiously. Better furious than crying, which was your second option.

It was worse when he smiled at you, a full, open-hearted, toothpaste-white smile. “I’m your Captain, baby.”

You held yourself rigidly still, every muscle locked tight. Banner was at least professional, examining your breasts with impersonal, gloved hands. But when Bucky’s long legs slid under yours and pulled them apart, you tried to surge upward. Looking up at you, brown eyes cold, Banner said, “I can sedate you. But this is happening.”

Gritting your teeth, you laid back against Bucky, refusing to look at any of them, refused to speak while the giant man behind you murmured endearments. 

“You’re so pretty, baby. We’ll get you all fixed up.”

“Such a sweet girl for her daddy.”

“We’ll make this worth it, honey.”

Banner inserted a speculum, and to your horror, Steve walked around to stand behind him, watching your bare, open pussy with great interest. “Ah,” the doctor said, “there’s the IUD. I’ll just remove-”

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” you shouted, “You have no fucking right!”

But the soldier behind you held you in a vise grip as the doctor deftly removed your birth control, dropping it on a stainless steel tray. You stared at it, the last of your choice torn away.

Steve smiled at you gently. “We have every right. How can we get a baby in you with that piece of crap blocking you? We’re gonna have such pretty babies, doll.”

Your mouth was open, your oration skills deserted you and you were furious, ignoring Bucky’s soothing kisses. A red-headed woman, beautiful and petite, walked in, handing Banner a tablet. She looked you over indifferently. “Is this your breeder?”

You recognized the voice. “N- Natasha Romanoff?” you gasped, “What the fuck? You’re a woman and you’re letting this happen?”

Still looking you over, she asked the men, “Is she going to be available to Sam and Clint when you’ve bred her successfully?”

“Nope,” purred Bucky, squeezing you painfully tighter. “This one’s all ours.”

Steve’s voice was colder. “We don’t fucking share.”

Dr. Banner was going over something on the tablet. “Excellent. Your transfusions took perfectly, she’s already showing signs of increased cellular repair. Those broken ribs you told me about are perfectly healed. No sign of trauma. Healthy ovaries and uterus- she’s excellent breeding material."

"Fuck you, breeding material my ass, you son of a-"

Steve's hand was over your mouth with the speed of a striking snake, squeezing painfully. "Ah, ah. We've talked about language before. The next curse word out of your mouth merits 50 slaps on your ass with my belt."

Bucky's hands were already wandering, stroking your breasts under the gown and he looked up at the white-coated couple with a sly smile. "Why don't you two go grab dinner and let us celebrate.”

“This is a sterile space!” Dr. Banner gasped, but Natasha laughed, pulling on his arm. 

“C’mon doc. It’s not the first time supersoldier spooge has been on every level surface in the building.” The door closed, and you were alone in the room with your two soldiers.

For some reason, your desperately cycling brain landed on two names. “I thought you said you lost Sam and Clint in Stark Tower?” 

Steve shrugged in a handsome, “Aw, shucks” kind of way. “Turns out they were just picking off some of the best prospects for our breeding program and flying them up here.”

“So every word out of your mouth is a lie, Captain America,” you spat, trying to control the humiliating tears.

“No, doll,” he was leaning his arms on the bed, eyeing your bare pussy with interest. “You’re our best girl, isn’t she, Bucky?”

“Ours alone,” he agreed, rough hands squeezing your soft flesh, pulling on your nipples. “Our pretty mama to be. You’re gonna look so good, doll…” Bucky moaned into your ear. “A big, sweet belly. Breasts all juicy and full of milk. I’m going to suck on you and get that sweet stuff flowing early so daddy can have a taste.” To your horror, your nipples were stiffening, your body accustomed to being aroused by his dark whispers after only a few days.

“You- you were giving me blood?” You were still trying to make them explain this madness, making them say it out loud so surely they’d see how insane it was. “Your blood?”

“Mmmhmmm,” Bucky licked a line up the taut cord in your neck. “You can’t believe how long it took.” Steve’s thumbs were pulling your lips open, and he imitated his friend, running his tongue in a long, cat-like slurp along your pussy. Nuzzling his bearded mouth against your clit, he twisted his wrist and slid two thick fingers inside you. “How long it took, ‘Rina, to find the right girl. Pretty girls, healthy ones. But our blood made theirs boil, made it explode right out of their skin once or twice. But we knew you’d be strong enough. You’d survived all those months on your own. We knew you were the right one.” 

You could hear the wet sounds of Steve coaxing the slick from you, stiffening and squealing once when his bearded chin dug into the opening of your channel. “That feel good, baby?” he asked, rubbing his whiskers against your painfully sensitive center.

“N- no!” you forced out, “Go to hell.” His huge hand came down in a sharp slap against your defenseless cunt and you yelped. 

“What did I say about bad language?” Steve was stern, slapping you again, your wet lips making the sting worse. He pulled off the top of his tach suit, the beautiful muscles of his chest rippling and moving under smooth skin. Grinning at you, watching Bucky’s long fingers toy and tug on your nipples, he unzipped his pants, pulling that huge cock out. God, you’d been so fond of that cock until now. And realizing that the wet, shiny tip was about to enter you, you tried to close your knees against him but he yanked them apart, his biceps bulging. “No baby, no closing these long, sexy legs.” His thrust inside you and you choked, feeling him so far inside you that it seemed to cut off your oxygen. “In fact, I think we’re gonna keep them wide open for a long time, huh, Bucky?”

His blue-grey gaze was focused on where Steve’s cock was thrusting in and out of you, “Oh, yeah, punk. We’ll keep her tied to the bed if we have to. She’d look so good, open and bare for us.”

‘This can’t be happening,’ you moaned internally, his generous shaft was spreading you painfully wide, shoving carelessly and stroking and moving against your wet walls.

“She’s tight, Buck. We knew that but damn, our girl’s cunt is squeezing me.”

“We’re gonna have to stretch her out, Stevie,” he answered, fingers sliding down to tap lightly against your clit. “I wanna be in there together, blow that cervix wide open, get our seed up inside her deep.” The mere thought was enough to make you whimper, and Bucky misunderstood, leaning down to kiss you. “Aw, is he making you sore? It’s okay, baby. Daddy will take care of you.”

Hips pumping furiously now, Steve was about to come inside you, you could feel his cock widening even more, painfully, impossibly more and as he pushed himself flush against your cervix. And as you felt the heat of him flooding you, to your horror, you came, too, gushing around him. “Fuck,” he groaned, “getting my cock soaking wet like a good girl.”

“Our best girl,” Bucky assured you, still lightly stroking your hard little nub and extending your orgasm. He pushed a pillow under your hips as Steve pulled out slowly, groaning. He looked down and grinned, pushing his come trying to escape from you back in, shoving his long fingers to send it into you deep. 

In another eerie moment of synchronicity, as Bucky slid from under you, Steve took his place. Kissing your sweaty forehead, he whispered, “I’m gonna sit behind you, just like this when you’re in labor. I’m gonna help you push while Bucky’s waiting to greet our baby. We’re gonna be so happy.”

As Bucky’s wide cock invaded where his had just been, you moaned against the painful stretch. He growled, head dropping back in ecstasy. “Ah, shit. I can feel your come dripping down my balls.” Leaning in, he kissed you, driving his tongue between your lips at the same speed his shaft was battering you. “I’m gonna squeeze all his swimmers out of you, baby. Daddy’s gonna get in there first.” You never could have believed it, never accepted it, but your back arched and you came with a scream, the new spill of slick letting him push up higher, impossibly high and then he came, too. Falling over you, chests heaving together, Bucky groaned. “We’re gonna be a family.”

“Yeah, punk.” Steve’s hand was smoothing back your hair, and then Bucky’s. “A big family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, MY GOD this took forever! I hope it gives you a satisfactory resolution. I figure it's (sort of) a happy ending. Having little Steve and Bucky babies doesn't sound too bad. Especially the impregnation part.
> 
> Many thanks to the beautiful misreall who helped me figure out the end... it was more difficult than I expected.


End file.
